


Discern

by yeaka



Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Unexpected chances come.
Relationships: Victor/Ned Roche
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Discern

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Handsome Devil or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Things are different after the game, _better_ , and even though Ned’s still swamped with guilt for outing someone else, Conor says sorry just as thickly—he looks at the cut on Ned’s face and pulls Ned in for a sweat-slicked hug that reeks of rugby. Ned returns it and is _so_ relieved when in the midst of the festivities, he’s told he can come back, not just to the school but to his room— _their_ room—and it’s all on the right track. Even Weasel stays out of his way, because Conor’s his _best friend_ , and this time, Conor lets everyone know it.

That doesn’t change the fact that Conor’s the popular one. Ned’s just the weirdo roommate people don’t avoid _quite_ as obviously as before. He’ll take it. At least when he wanders into his own dorm and sees some other rugby player there, he doesn’t feel the need to either run or brace for a beating.

Victor was never one of the worst ones anyway. Just a follower, like the whole lot of them. But he sits on Conor’s bed alone, quickly swinging to his feet when Ned walks through the door. Ned hesitates for a fraction of a second but then just keeps going. Conor’s missing, but that’s nothing new—it’s that time of evening where the temperature’s _just right_ , so he’s probably out for a run. In the midst of swinging his bag over his shoulder and onto the floor, Ned grunts, “He’ll probably be back in an hour.”

“What?” Victor starts, before clarifying, “Oh, no, uh... I came to see you, actually.” He reaches back, raking long fingers through blond hair, perfectly quaffed as usual. Victor’s one of those annoyingly good looking jocks that probably has it all in life. But he smiles awkwardly at Ned like he’s got something to be nervous about. Ned just waits. 

He doesn’t have anything good to say. Not that Victor will want to hear, anyway. Victor won’t care about the vinyl he and Conor found on the weekend or that Conor managed to sneak him into a pub just for shits and giggles before they were both thrown out on their asses. And Ned certainly doesn’t want to hear about more rugby than he already has to. So Ned just drops onto his bed and waits for the other shoe to drop.

Victor shifts his weight onto his other foot. He fidgets for a minute, hands shoved in the pockets of is uniform, and then he clears his throat and explains, “I, uh... well, I was talking to Conor... and he kinda... I dunno. Gave me the courage to say some things I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

“Yeah?” In some ways, Conor did that for Ned too. He’s a great listener. Victor’s gaze lolls to the window, stalling, but then it snaps back to Ned and he _stares_ like he needs to—like he’s psyching himself up for something Ned really needs to hear. It’s such a strange role reversal, just that little moment, with Ned sitting comfortably and a hotshot jock all unnerved. 

“I’m sorry.”

Ned’s brows lift.

“For... for everything. Being a dick to you, and letting the guys be dicks to you, and... y’know.” He shrugs. “Everything.” 

“Okay.” Ned figured at least a few of them had to feel guilty about that. He figured most were over it, since no one’s bothered him since their beloved hero came out of the closet. He made peace with that. It’s vaguely awkward to face an apology head on, although he also sort of appreciates it. But he doesn’t know what to say about it other than ‘okay.’

Then Victor makes it even weirder by asking, “Can I buy you lunch sometime?”

That’s totally not necessary. Ned can’t resist quipping, “That’s a bit gay, isn’t it?”

To his surprise, Victor agrees, “Yeah.” But he doesn’t take it back.

There’s a pregnant pause before Ned realizes, “Oh.” _Oh._

“I mean, I’m not... gay, that is...” Ned opens his mouth, about to say it doesn’t matter, he was just joking, but Victor rolls on: “I like both, I think. Or... whatever.” Oh.

Ned blurts out, “That’s even weirder.”

“Yeah.”

And there’s something bizarrely nice about that. About having another person who’s _different_ , and a different kind of different, even though maybe Victor’s life will be so much easier. Maybe he’ll fall in love with a woman and no other questions will ever come up. Except he’s not asking a girl out. He’s making an effort with Ned. It’s almost unfathomable. 

Victor _is_ cute. Maybe he’s not such a bad guy, now that Ned’s gotten past his jock-o-phobia. It’s still surreal, and Ned’s still wary. “If this is a joke...”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Like, if you’re hoping to have me show up somewhere to just get jumped by Weasel or—”

Victor’s abruptly moving, crossing the small room, over the space where the makeshift wall used to be, and then he’s in _Ned’s_ space. He’s standing between Ned’s shoes, and he’s leaning down, grabbing Ned’s jaw in one hand. 

Ned doesn’t have the reflexes to pull away. He’s frozen there, mesmerized, as Victor brushes his lips over Ned’s in the weakest, most chaste kiss he could imagine. Then Victor’s standing rod-straight again, blushing worse than Conor after a tickle fight. 

Except Conor’s his best mate, and Victor’s _fair game_. Victor looks as surprised as Ned is, but he’s not running for the door, which is something. And Ned realizes with a start that the door’s still _open_ —he never bothered to shut it after he wandered in. Victor just pecked him on the mouth out in the open. So it’s definitely not a joke. 

Victor breathes, “Thursday... yeah?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“No, I mean, for lunch. I got practice tomorrow...”

“Right.” Right. Ned swallows, and before he can stop himself, he’s agreeing, “Yeah.”

Yeah, he’ll let one of his ex-hunters buy him food. Maybe they’ll talk a bit. He’ll give Victor a chance. Maybe they’ll just laugh about Conor the whole time, or maybe something will spark. Maybe it’ll be amazing. He’s braver than most ever gave him credit for—he’s willing to try. 

He gives Victor a hopeful smile. Victor breaks into a wide, relieved grin. And then the door’s opening wider and Conor’s stepping through, breathing hard from a run and looking between them.

He asks Victor first, “You finally do it?”

Victor gives a thumbs up. Connor lifts his hand for a high-five, and when Victor’s connects with it, Conor cheerfully adds, “If you hurt him, I’ll break your nose.”

Victor just laughs like he knows. He makes his way to the door but does an elaborate spin on his way out, turning to throw at Ned, “Thursday.”

“Right.”

“I’ll come get you?”

“Sure.”

“Cool... yeah, cool...” Then he’s disappeared around the corner, and it’s just two friends again. 

Ned chucks his pillow at Conor for playing matchmaker behind his back, but Conor, brilliant as he is, dodges it with ease.


End file.
